


True Instincts

by Bittercape (bittercape)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Animal Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittercape/pseuds/Bittercape
Summary: Case #0031610. Statement of Harriet Taylor, regarding an encounter with … bears? Statement given by subject October 16th 2003. Recording by archival assistant [name redacted].





	True Instincts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PinotPurple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinotPurple/gifts).

Case #0031610. Statement of Harriet Taylor, regarding an encounter with … bears? Statement given by subject October 16th 2003. Recording by archival assistant [name redacted].

[Statement begins]

I guess I should start by saying I’m an outdoorsy type. I have been camping since I was a child, and I don’t mean in the glamorous way, with campsites and showers and tents. My father enjoyed taking me and my brothers out on nature walks, where we carried all our own gear and built our own shelter from branches and leaves, even from when we were very young. The oldest picture I’ve seen of my family is of my father and us kids, where I am about six and my youngest brother just over four. We all have our backpacks. I’m beaming with joy, but both my brothers are looking like they dread what’s to come.

I remember it as joyful. Building fires, fishing, sleeping under the stars … Both my brothers claim it was traumatic, and have refused to travel out of walking distance from a proper macchiato since reaching adulthood. But I spend every vacation as far from civilization as possible, and I make it a challenge to bring as little as I possibly can. Within the limits of what’s safe, of course. I bring enough food to survive if I can’t forage or catch anything, and I have started bringing a high quality sleeping bag with a waterproof shell after a nastily cold trip to Scotland a few years ago. I am very good at surviving in the wild. I don’t say this to brag, but because it’s important to me that you know I’m not just some city bred pansy who got scared by shadows.

What happened to me was real. So real, in fact, that it seems like another level of reality. It’s completely clear in my memory, sharper and more saturated than anything else I have ever experienced. 

It happened last summer. I was trekking in the woods in Sweden, somewhere north of Umeå. I had been out for four days, and had covered about fifty miles, at a rough guess. I had found a good camping spot for the night, and the sky was clear, so I didn’t bother to build a shelter. I just settled by the river bank with my fishing rod, waiting to see if I would get dinner or just have some rations. I took off my boots and relished in the feeling of fresh air on my toes after a long day’s walk.

This far north, the days last forever in summer. Correspondingly, the nights last forever in the winter. Even further north there is no sunlight at all, for months. I don’t think I would like that, but the summer nights are magnificent. It’s like every sense turn sharper, every smell becomes distinct, every little sound can be heard for miles. I listened to the hum of the insects, closing my eyes against the daylight even late in the evening. It was the best I’ve ever felt.

Until I smelled it. 

Of course I knew there were wild animals around. But even predators rarely bother humans, preferring to avoid us if possible. I knew there were wolves and bears and moose around, and of these, I’ve always been the most afraid of moose. I know it seems silly if you’ve only seen pictures, but they are massive. Like you wouldn’t believe. Like how you imagine dinosaurs.

This wasn’t a moose, however. That musky smell immediately signalled _predator_ to my deepest instincts, and before I could even have a rational thought, I was backing away. A short distance downriver was a bear cub. Cubs are usually fine, but the problem with cubs are the mothers. There’s a reason why mama bear is an expression, and I couldn’t see her anywhere. At the same time I couldn’t really control my own legs, backing away from the cub. 

I had gotten a fair distance away from the cub when I registered a different presence. And this was even more unsettling. From behind me, in the direction I was backing towards, were the absolute knowledge there were humans. Now, this can seem strange, but if you’ve been away from people for a while, you’ll know what I mean. Humans have a different presence from other animals. You can feel them. Watching, thinking, evaluating, in a way that no other animal does. And behind me were humans. I knew it, without turning. There was a different quality to them, too. Feral. Animalistic. An even more dangerous predator. 

I stood very still. As slowly as I was able, I turned my head a quarter turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see one of them. A woman, hair in a messy braid, dressed in ragged clothes. There was something wrong with her face. Her jaw was too powerful. Her teeth were too long and too sharp. Her eyes were too focused. She licked her lips with a tongue that seemed too big and too dexterous for a human. Like a dog. Or a wolf. 

In a moment of either clarity or insanity, I ran towards the cub. It was clearly startled, letting out a strange bleating sound, and I could immediately hear the sounds of another, larger animal crashing through the undergrowth, moving quickly towards me. The mother bear was big, and smelly, and clearly angry. She would undoubtedly have mauled me, had not the other humans followed so closely behind me, entering right in her path. I didn’t wait to see what happened, I just ran. Away from the sounds of an animal being ripped to pieces, but which animal, I couldn’t tell you. 

I ran barefoot for hours, carrying only the clothes on my back and the knife at my hip. I hid under a large fallen tree until the next day, when I carefully circled back to my stuff. There was only blood spatters, and no sign of who had emerged victorious. I took the quickest route out of the forest, and went home as soon as I could. 

I am not used to being the prey, and I can’t say I enjoyed the feeling. And I haven’t really gone back into the wilderness since. But the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about them. The woman, and the other human I didn’t see. What was it like, for them? How did they feel? Were they free? 

[Statement ends]


End file.
